3,500 Miles
by Decidedly Average
Summary: "Because at some point over the past 11 months, during those invisible late night phone calls, they realised they were in love." - Harry and Nikki realise that you can only postpone the inevitable for so long.


There is a certain hesitance to their meeting, when he comes to pick her up at the airport.

It is quite unlike what it once was.

In arrivals, she spots him a mile off, and despite the intimate truths spoken between them on the phone she doesn't know where to look as she strides down towards him.

Luckily, her journey down the breadth of the airport is made substantially smaller when he begins to walks towards her, meeting her halfway. Just like always.

She drops her suitcase, and the embrace they share is more than a little awkward, and they both know it. Pulling away from the hug they share a smile; a telepathic jab at how ridiculous they're both being.

How stupid they were.

It is a few seconds after, when she has composed herself, refusing to be lost in his eyes for any great amount of time, that she realises his arms are still around her waist. His eyes, the same eyes they've always been; warm, intelligent, more than a little cheeky, move from hers down to her lips as he pulls her closer.

It feels ridiculous. It feels wrong. This man, whom she hasn't seen in over 11 months, whom she speaks to on the phone daily, is holding her as if he never left…and he's about to _kiss_ her…

"_Harry…"_

The first words she's said to him in person - since she told him he was a liar, and a bastard, and that she never wanted to see him again - spoken just before his lips meet hers. He pulls away slightly.

"_Mmm?"_

"_Let's not be clichéd airport people."_

With a sigh he hopes she doesn't hear, he pulls away – the hardest thing he's had to do since leaving her…

The hardest thing he's had to do since living almost 340 days without her.

The time will come, he thinks, perhaps it's just not now. He can't help but note her avoidance of the word _'couple'_, but he doesn't blame her for being apprehensive, he is too.

Some things are easier to say when your 3,500 miles apart.

In truth, the whole thing could fall flat on its face. After all, they hadn't seen each other for 11 months, even the strongest of friendships would struggle with that. For them though, there was an extra spanner in the works.

Because at some point over the past 11 months. During those invisible late night phone calls, they realised they were in love.

He wonders if this is how internet daters feel…

Then he decides he needs to man up. After all, if he'd done that in the first place he might not even be in this situation. So he picks up her suitcase and jovially offers her his arm and breathes a sigh of relief when she beams at him, takes it and they walk together into the blistering heat of summer in New York.

The drive to his apartment is spent in silence, as she takes in the sights before her he decides not to distract her, it's not like they have a lot to catch up on; he spoke to her for almost 2 hours on Thursday night.

Though he is tempted to ask her how she managed to fit the enormous elephant into the boot. He silently hopes they left it at the airport, but highly doubts it.

There was always going to be a certain amount of awkward. They had never meant so much to each other and neither was quite sure how to deal with it. It's not a bad kind of awkward, perhaps just the right amount. Enough to keep them on their toes, keep their hearts racing.

* * *

He holds the door open for her and she enters gingerly, looking around as she does so. It is modern, too modern and gadgety for her, a far cry from her own old-fashioned, country cottage style. She can't help but look around and smile, imagining how their lives could have fitted so bizarrely, but so perfectly together. A flat screen LCD television above the ornate, Victorian fireplace, ipads and laptops beside vintage vases filled with wild flowers, kindles in bookcases.

"_You like it? I tidied!"_

"_I love it." _She lies to spare his feelings.

What they say must be true.

Opposites attract. _And so the atlas fell in love with the sat nav. _

Setting her case down in the mouth of the hallway, looking out over the kitchen and living area, he gives her a warm smile. Suddenly, there are no more words to say.

So he goes to her, taking her face in his hands and drawing her closer. He can feel the skin above her lip on his mouth as he closes his eyes…

"_Harry…"_

He gives a light-hearted, but depleted sigh and rests his forehead against hers instead.

"_What?"_

She runs her hands along his shoulders; she's not rejecting him, nothing of the sort. She needs him to know that. She thinks he probably already does, as he smiles at her, if not a little wearily. It reminds her of his smile when he would welcome her into her own spare room, half way through the night, when suddenly she had needed his advice. She always had liked to be close to him. It would do her well to remember that. Harry _back then _and Harry _in front of her_ were the same person, after all.

"_I've just been on a plane for 9 hours, can I at least wash or something?"_

"_In this country, we call it 'freshening up'."_

She laughs and the tension is broken. The moment is gone for now. With a sharp inhalation of air, he moves away from her and picks up her suitcase again, kicking open one of the doors leading from the corridor and going inside. He calls back to her.

"_Tell you what, why don't you have a shower, get changed and I'll take you out to dinner, you're not too tired are you?"_

She follows him into the bedroom, which even in the light has a blue haze about it. It's too dark, in her opinion. It needs light, and more decoration. She didn't think men could do minimalist until she met Harry. His houses have never felt like homes, more like hotels, and this one is no exception.

But there's still that same smell, the smell that she clung to, for months after he left, on the sheets in her spare room as it mixed with her tears. That smell that had always made her feel so safe, comfortable. It relaxes her, having that smell around her now. It's like coming home. So distinctly _him_.

"_Is this your room?"_

His head snaps up at this and he looks concerned, panicked. Endearingly, he begins to back pedal, ferociously.

"_Yeah, I thought…well I didn't know if you…I mean, there's the spare room if you want, I just thought that we…You can go to the spare room, it's made up any way."_

She remembers those first phone calls, all those months ago; staggered and upsetting and heart breaking. With only one another's voices for guidance, they had discovered what they had always wanted. And it had been too late. It had all come pouring out. He had told her things he had thought, felt, when he saw her with other men, when she was in trouble, upset. She told him how he made her feel, emotionally and physically. How she had spent 7 years of her life dressing for him, trying to impress him, falling for him. It had all come out. The entire, painstaking, cringe worthy truth.

And then the phone calls had gone back to as they had always been as friends.

The only difference being the tender "_Love you." _at the end. Every single night.

Friends don't phone each other every night and then talk for over 2 hours, do they?

But now there's no phone to hide behind. And it's almost embarrassing. To look at one another having said _everything._ The thought of being _naked _and sharing a bed with him, _at the same time _seems almost trivial now.

Things have changed. So she puts him out of his misery, looking at him through her eyelashes, repressing a grin.

"_No. Here's fine. Thank you."_

And her words hold so much more meaning than what she says.

"_G-great. Well use the en-suite, make yourself at home."_

He rolls his eyes at his own nervousness, and gives her a wink which turns her inside out, before leaving her to it, closing the door gently behind him.

With a deep breath, she almost panics when she thinks of the transformation that is going to have to take place. One thing's for certain; she _has_ to look nice for him.

She starts by showering, taking in her own shampoo and body wash and leaving them in there. She runs over everything once with a razor to catch any stray stubble and exfoliates every last inch of skin. Stepping out, she dries and moisturises. Blow dries her hair, lets it curl on its own, pins some flyaway bits to the back of her head with a butterfly clip and moves on to make-up.

45 minutes later she has decided on a long purple blouse and water look legging with suede wedge boots. He stands immediately when he hears her coming out and takes her in. She wriggles nervously under his gaze.

"_I wasn't sure what to wear. You didn't say where we were going."_

"_No. You're right on the money."_

He moves closer to her, and she doesn't avert her eyes this time, looking right at him with the ghost of a smile on her face. He can smell her perfume, a heady scent that brings back so many memories he almost aches to be back there.

But this is a new chapter now.

"_You look beautiful."_

He smiles as she blushes and glances at the floor.

"_I'll get a coat. Is it safe to go in there?"_

She looks back at him now, eyes sparkling and nods. She looks so stunning her almost staggers back. He moves in slowly, closer, giving her time to stop him if she wants.

She doesn't.

He kisses her, shortly, sweetly but firmly on the lips and as he moves away, he sees her blush again. But this time her eyes stay fixed to his. He holds himself back, for now, not wishing to push his luck. He could cry as he fishes out a blazer to wear out. No one has ever looked at him like that. Ever. He's never seen her look so happy.

* * *

She has no idea where they are going and it's exciting. Anticipation for the entire evening is making her feel giddy before she's touched a drop of alcohol.

She's never felt so happy.

As they walk out, he takes her hand, entwining her fingers with his as he leads her through his new world, and it is almost exhilarating to watch as his two favourite things collide.

She stares in open mouthed wonder as they walk amongst things she has only ever dreamed she would see. The sights before her have only ever belonged in movies. He has made her dreams come true.

They end up in a quiet restaurant, and she is amazed at how quiet and intimate it is compared to the sheer enormity of the city that surrounds it.

"_Harry!"_

She raises her eyebrows as he is welcomed warmly by the thirty-something, good-looking waiter. It is accompanied by a pang of sadness when she realises for the first time that he has a new life here. New friends, new job, new colleagues.

Without her.

And perhaps there is no room for her. For now she is merely a butterfly; flitting into his life every so often, at which time he stops to admire her, but it is only fleeting and then his attention is occupied elsewhere.

She is no longer in the centre of his life, simply dancing around the edge of it.

Or so she thinks.

"_And you must be Nikki!"_

The enthusiastic waiter exclaims, taking her hand in his and squeezing it warmly.

"_Awesome to meet you at last!"_

She says nothing. Taken aback at being treated like some kind of celebrity in a country she has never even been to before. He ushers them to a small table next to the window and Harry quietly asks for some of their best South African white, before the waiter leaves them in peace.

"_So, this is where you bring all your women then? Must be hard, making sure they're all called Nikki…doesn't leave you much scope…"_

He knows she's teasing him and although she acts unimpressed, he knows he's played his cards right by her failure to hide the smile on her face.

"_If it's any of your business Dr Alexander I don't have 'women' I have one 'woman'..."_

Flattered, she silently thanks him.

"_I've actually invited her tonight, hope that's okay."_

She dissolves into giggles, relieved that his sense of humour hasn't changed and that he feels relaxed enough with her tonight to use it.

* * *

It is strange to comprehend how much can change in just one evening. That night a fortnight ago, his world shifted on it's axis. Everything suddenly just seemed to fit.

13 days later feels like a lifetime. Most of which has been spent in his bedroom; exploring, making up for lost time. He had taken her into the city, too. They had done all the tourist things, gone for tea, had a laugh…and then went back to bed.

Though not a lot of sleeping occurred in all truth.

He glances at the clock. 3.30am and he reaches out to find she isn't there. Slipping on sweatpants he leaves the bedroom – that now smells deliciously of her – to find her sitting at the breakfast bar, in nothing but his shirt. The city lights shine on her through the window and she looks almost ghostly.

"_Where is this going, Harry?"_

He pads through and takes a seat opposite her.

"_Well, where would you like it to go?"_

She rolls her eyes, and his lopsided smile fades when he realises she's being serious.

"_Well I – I've had a really great time, I hope you have too?"_

"_And is this all it will ever be? 'A great time' every now and again? Nice holiday, good food, amazing sex and then…nothing?"_

He isn't really sure how to reply to that. Instead he stands and she watches him, as he walks to the window, stretching, taking in the view. In the quick glance he gave towards her in the darkness he saw how lost she looked and he feels guilty that he hadn't noticed before.

"_I thought you were happy."_

"_I have been."_

"_But you want more. Joint bank account, mortgage, picket fence?"_

For a moment she pauses and it occurs to him that she has never out rightly admitted this before, not to anyone, not even to_ him_ in their secret late night phone calls.

"_Yes."_

"_I can't give you that."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I'm here and you're in England, Nikki! 3,500 miles is a long way."_

"_Then come home!"_

"_Life's not that simple, Niks!"_

He finds himself losing his temper. The last thing he wants is to fall out with her on her last night with him for what could be months.

"_I just want this to have a future."_

"_So do I."_

"_Then you need to stop being afraid."_

They share a look across the kitchen. He knows she's right. He is scared. Scared of commitment. But not scared of commitment to the wrong person.

Scared of commitment to the _right _person.

He turns again to the window, and she walks up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and standing on tiptoes to place a kiss to his ear.

"_You are not your father, Harry."_

* * *

They are both a bit too groggy on the drive to the airport when daylight comes. But neither speaks of what occurred the night before, the conversation they had, one of the few things that hadn't been covered in the 'phone calls'.

He makes polite conversation, asks her if she enjoyed herself with a slight glint in his eye, he carries her case into the airport, but when it comes to kissing her goodbye, he is less than enthusiastic.

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him on the lips, opening her mouth to kiss him again before pausing and pulling back.

"_What's the matter?"_

His hands are lightly holding her hips.

"_I'm not kissing you. It'll make it worse. I've done all my kissing."_

She gives him a shaky smile before leaning in again and spending a full minute kissing every inch of his face. Then, quickly she tears herself from him, grabs her suitcase and walks away.

* * *

He takes longer than she thought he would, and she is just about to pass her passport over to the young lady at the counter and her suitcase disappears on the conveyor belt, when he strides up behind her, spins her round, pulls her to him and kisses her chastely. She keeps hold of him after he's done, clutching the lapels of his jacket, tears threatening.

"_This has been the best fortnight of my life, and I don't want you to go."_

"_I know."_

"_I'm going home to book a flight to England next month so I can see you again. I love you."_

"_I love you too."_

He brushes thumbs over her cheeks, resting his forehead against hers.

"_No crying, now."_

She does as she's told, slowly, reluctantly letting him go and glancing over, mouthing her embarrassed apologies to the lady at the desk.

"_Laters babycakes!"_

He shouts back as he walks away, in what she assumes is a feeble attempt at an American accent. She smiles and supresses a laugh as she wonders wistfully how many people he's stereotyped in the queue behind her.

She holds her hand out for her ticket back, the woman hesitates before handing it over with an understanding smile.

"_Y'know 3,500 miles isn't that far."_

* * *

**No idea where this came from! But I have a complex where I can't move on with my life until I've written whatever Nikki and Harry related tale I have in my head onto paper and posted it!**_  
_

**FYI this is nothing to do with any of my other stories, I'm just still upset about it and this makes things a bit easier for me!**

**I don't own anything as usual...well, I do own an iphone, does that make me cool? :P**

**xxx**


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